Junk food friday gone awry

So let’s recap a little. It’s been a rough couple of days. I might not have detailed it all.

• Yesterday was Take Your Child to Work Day. So the BethyEx took both girls to the office with him.
• BethyGirl1 started running a fever, so she slept on the floor of BethyEx’s office til I could get there.
• …which kept her from going to school today
• …which in turn, made me postpone BethyGirl1’s 11th birthday party to next Saturday, instead of tomorrow.

yeah, I know, bad luck, huh?  I’m not sure I can wait a full week for the hubbub. It’s going to be the most spectacular bowling party evah. You know it.  

So, BethyGirl1 is a bit bummed about missing her party, although she understands. We played Mancala all day to make up for it. I love that game, so addictive.

We go to pick BethyGirl2 up from school, pick up Icees and candy bars (junk food Friday), and go home to prep for, yes, you guessed it, soccer! I had gotten an email from the coach that the game was at a different field today, in Winter Park (see map below)… so I, like the fabulous and uber-prepared mother that I am, printed up a map detailing how I was to get there. Easy, right? no.
Look at this map. Really look at it.

See all those roads? I drove on every frickin one of them. Every one. And could not find a huge, several acre tract of land that had 8 year old soccer players on it. I drove around for 45 minutes, searching for a little black and white ball, or even, heck, a solitary ponytail blowing in the wind. I would have been ecstatic. But nothing. Irritated to high heaven, I was. At the coach, for having the game at some weird random not-our-usual field, at myself, for neglecting to put the coach’s phone number in my phone, at the bethyex for being at some church meeting instead of watching his daughter play soccer.  So I’m doing the standard inner fuming, when I hear, from the back seat,

“I wish the world wouldn’t always jump on top of us…”

At that point, I stopped. We were 25 minutes late for the game. She might not even get to play.
So I put some Cyndi Lauper in the cd player, turned it up, found I-4, and we went out to dinner. And then came home and played Mancala some more. And we all felt better.

I don’t want to forget, ever, that sometimes my 8 year old girl, whose mommy and daddy just got divorced, and who just moved away from all of her friends, sometimes feels like the world is jumping on top of her.